Guzokh bellowed, "Our sector is conducting new operations, new raids. The week of repentance is feared more and more. More informants. In short…"
"In short," Nevroch interrupted him. — Everything but the numbers."
"The numbers are in order, High Priest Brother Nevroch," the latter could no longer stand these meetings: everything by any means but moving toward his "exile."
About this stage, all decisions have long been made, what remains is to be finalized. Nevroh continued: "Good. What does Brother Priest Katoch have to say?"
–
We've come up with a new technique. We're about to try it out. Everything's going according to plan.
–
That's good. Does anyone have anything to say about this?
No ideas, no suggestions, not even questions. Not about the "new" methodology, not about the numbers, not about anything at all. Everyone pretended to know everything, but in reality almost everyone just pretended.
— Then I declare the council adjourned. The next one in six days.
Everyone dispersed. Samoh, head of the 360-degree sector entering Stage 1, opened one of the yellowed doors and went down the stairs. Neuroch was waiting for him there.
— I'm so sick of having conversations with these lackeys. They can't do anything but talk nonsense about our justice and prove the nonsense of "Silanzhah".
— The most interesting thing is that they believe it themselves," Samokh grinned. The head pinned his new hopes on him. He has the most important apparatus of the Inquisition: supervision over the SCK and the very top. Only he will be able to return the church to its former influence, taken away by the SSchekists. Besides, he has the right notions regarding the distinction between church and faith, and without this one cannot become a high priest: only he who sees the real difference can convince the others of unity. — It's no big deal. It's no big deal.
— Did you have something to say, Master?
— Yes… I sense someone who might interfere with us…..
— Among whom?
— Among the humans. — Nevroh turned around. — I sense a strange man. There has never been one like him before. He poses a serious threat.
— A human? Master, you–
— Don't be a fool. I don't want a reckless plague to ever take my place. This propaganda of theirs about the weakness of men is worth no more than our Silanjah… I've never felt such power before.
— Tell me the location, I'll send an agent.
— No need… I already sent it out… A month ago… And the location… Just the area where we use the R-36 and R-37. Oh, by the way, do you have any other ideas on how to use these leftovers?
After that incident, only the R-37 remained.
— What's there to do? — Samoh made a questioning face out of his already nasty face, and they both laughed.
— That's what I think, too. — Neuroch agreed. — First take care of it and immediately on the spot.
Personally study the situation, then report to me. Agent you do not know the face and do not need. He knows his business …
Spider
A couple of days passed, and Shinhr brought all the information: the Dnepropetrovsk-DonetskRostov-on-Don routes and characteristics on the convoy leadership.
— You promised you would protect me," he said, handing over the papers.
— No, we didn't promise that. We said we wouldn't hurt you.
— But what about…
— Don't worry, we'll protect you. It's just that you have to pour out what you had and what you thought… Now that you have brought what we asked for, I say to you, "We will protect you." — Thank you. I really, uh.
Chum said the word. "Truth." What did it mean to them? A chance to stay alive? Not to be mixed up in something with the SCK or the Inquisition? And their state of mind? Do the Chums have a soul to experience for it to justify their actions?
— Take your time. We'll check "it" and then you can rest easy. For now, wait.
His eyes showed apprehension from both sides already. Shinhr was afraid of both the SS and the Inquisitors. One might be dissatisfied with his actions and turn him in, the other might discover his "contact" with the former. He would not have interfered in anything at all, but fear forced him to do so. Fear of what these "eradicators of heresy" were doing in their own lands.
The next day Vanya handed over the rewritten material, saying that everything was in order and that his help would not be needed anytime soon. Shinhr seemed satisfied, but some thought made him uneasy.
— What's wrong with you? Speak up, we're a church. We'll understand. — Vanya had gotten so into character over the past couple of days that he looked at everything differently, as if he were really behind a serious organization that would get him off and, if necessary, his agent as well.
— Uh, no. It's okay… The chief's not happy today… They might demote me… I think it'll all work out.
It's hard to understand why he didn't ask for help: apparently a "disgruntled" chief is less scary than a "helping" Inquisition.
Be that as it may, the prefect demanded the next morning that Tikhomirov "find out everything about the matter."
Cleaning the floor in his usual place that day, Vanya heard a shout from the adjoining room. It was the same mocking voice again, which had no power, but a couple of powers.
The door opened, and Shinhr stepped out into the corridor. Only half a minute of hysterics, and he was already gone. Vanya had never seen such an expression on the plagues' faces: his eyes had shrunk not twice but three times, his forehead was creased, as were his lips, his cheeks tense and pulled the tissues of his ears toward him.
— I'll be shot. Unless a miracle happens, I'll be shot. Ivan, please, you promised me help. I am faithful to the Church, I have done your errands, I will be useful to you….
— Don't make a fuss. We'll help you.
— Thank you. Thank you, Ivan, I'll never forget….
Tikhomirov looked at his naiveté and saw his edifice, so easily constructed and built on words, crumble.
— Quiet!
— All right. (chuckles)
— You have to. Tomorrow. Bring us the paperwork.
— Like what?
— Quiet! Vanya wanted to get something more out of it. — Chief of Supply. Information on warehouses and their locations. We don't know what it looks like. We'll take care of your chief.
Of course, he brought everything that was asked for. And even more. Even what he couldn't get, the secret data of the SCS on suspicious members of the Disa group. He hoped that this way he could get more for the Inquisition….
— Well done. — Vanya praised him slowly, tucking the papers under his shirt.
— You…" Shinhr began, resembling a weak man with his emotions: eyebrows raised and eyes full of futile hope.
— We'll take care of it. Now he can yell at you all he wants, nothing will happen to you… If you want, you can smash his face in and then spit in it… Consider yourself untouchable. The Church will always protect you as long as you serve it. Continue to serve us faithfully.
There was no limit to the joy on his face. Apparently, he had decided to savor his new opportunities. When he had another conversation with his boss, he snickered and scoffed, then provoked a new outburst of anger, and in the process slapped his opponent right between the eyes. And then spit in his face. Almost as he had been advised… The guards who rushed in quickly dragged him out of there, took him to the inner courtyard of the institution and shot him there, while he continued to scream hysterically about injustice and punishment for attacks on the holy church.
These short shots; with such a short and very deafening echo.
Vanya shook his head, but the wrong feeling took his heart. It was not pity; he did not regard the plagues as living beings at all, and simple mechanical functions like speech or movement were treated by him as something they had stolen from earthly life. His feelings were similar to the loss of an important object, as if he had lost a shovel with which he had to dig a whole hole, a thing that was needed but could be replaced.